


Ode to a Jester

by AthenaFangGranger26



Series: The Songs of Skyrim [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2508284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaFangGranger26/pseuds/AthenaFangGranger26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'aan, the Listener is traveling with long time companions, Cicero and Shadowmere. But the jester has questions that T'aan just might have the answer to. Mayhap....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ode to a Jester

"Listener?"  
I felt a muscle in my cheek twitch at the sound of the jester's voice. My fingers flexed around my bow and I forced myself to ignore my companion. He knew we had a job to do and I can't risk being caught.  
"Shh," I let the syllable slip past my lips, barely even a whisper.  
Thankfully, the jester got the point and backed off. I rolled my eyes and adjusted my grip once more. The warmaiden in my sights would not last much longer.  
I released the bow string. With a satisfying thunk, the woman fell dead to the ground. Not a single head in the courtyard turned to notice her perish. I smirked to myself as I pulled an old, blue mage's robe out of my pack and over my head. I slipped the hood over my current one and pulled it low over my face.  
Unfortunately, my unique facial scarring and milky blind eye made me very recognizable, doubly so when I wore the Brotherhood's armor. The jester was far less recognizable. Yes, jesters were rare in Skyrim, but much less feared than assassins.  
I meandered toward my kill, pretending to be shocked at finding it. I discreetly made away with the maiden's gold and sword. Then without a glance back, I headed for the stables, where Shadowmere was waiting.  
Once we were on horseback, the jester tried again.  
"Listener?"  
"What, Cicero?" I sighed.  
"Cicero noticed that the Listener tries very hard to hide her face. Is she ashamed of her scars?" The jester continued. "Cicero has many scars and is not ashamed of his scars."  
"No, Cicero, I'm not ashamed of my scars. They are just very particular and different. They might reveal my identify one day." I answered, eyes glued to the road.  
Cicero was quiet for a few moments, then:  
"Listener?"  
"Yes, Cicero?"  
"Cicero wonders where the Listener got her unique scars..." Cicero's words grew soft. "Though the Listener does not have to tell Cicero."  
"No, it's alright Cicero. If not for these scars, I might not even be in Skyrim." I glanced off at a trio of elk standing off to the side of the road. They scattered as Shadowmere drew near. She snorted in their direction and shook her head, plodding along the road. She didn't need to be led; she knew the way back to Dawnstar. She'd get them there eventually.  
With my mind free of the direction we travelled, I took a deep breath and began my tale.   
"I made my mind up to cross the border to Skyrim, from High Rock, in search of work. I was fleeing from the orphanage I was raised in, much alike the one in Riften which led me to the Brotherhood. I was unprepared to travel with only the shirt on my back to protect me; mind you, the shirt was quite poorly made. I travelled for days, maybe even weeks; I'm still not sure.  
"I was weak, unfit for travel; raised on an orphanage's nutrition I lacked strength. Though where I lacked strength, I excelled in wit and determination. My travels were mostly free of harm or worry, until I nearly reached the border.  
"A sabre cat that had also crossed the border, came charging out of the bushes at me and caught me by surprise. I don't remember much about the fight; adrenaline took over and saved my life. Somehow I managed to kill the beast. But before I killed it, it got in a good swipe at my face. It took my eye and my face to the grave with it.  
"Somehow, I found the strength to go on. Despite my blind, bleeding eye and staggering step. I stumbled upon an Imperial ambush at the border, and due to the state of my appearance they arrested me. It was from this death sentence that I escaped and wandered my way into Skyrim."  
I finished my tale, looking to the sky as the double moons rose. I smiled at the dancing auroras; they were my favorite part of Skyrim.  
"Listener?"  
"You know you can call me T'aan, correct?"  
"Cicero prefers his Listener's title as she is fearsome and deserves the feared title."  
"Alright, fine. Your question?"  
"No, no. No question. Cicero would just like his Listener to know that he likes her scars. He believes they make her brave and terrifying and lovely."  
Now, it was my turn to be quiet. I always believed I kept the funny little jester along for his humorous way, but I realized now that this is why I keep him around. He's alright. He's more than alright; he's become a...friend.  
And for an assassin those don't come along very often.  
"Thank you, Cicero. You're lovely as well."  
"Oh, the Listener is too kind!"  
"Really. Truly. Thank you."  
"Cicero lives to serve his Listener."  
I smiled at the funny jester and spurred Shadowmere into a gallop. We were nearly home and I ached for my drafty, cold cave of a home. I yearned for my shifty, murderous family.  
Because it was the only family I had. The only one I needed.


End file.
